


The Struggle

by justdk



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Ronan helps Adam keep up with his school work by reading Hamlet to him.





	The Struggle

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fulfill an anonymous Valentine's prompt: Pynch! Fluff! Ronan taking care of Adam when he sees him struggling with something, but Adam doesn't want to admit to him and the others that he needs help.
> 
> This isn't exactly Pynch since I set this during the Blue Lily, Lily Blue timeframe, before Pynch happens. But you get Ronan pining big time!

_I must really love him,_ Ronan thought, _to be doing this_.

It hadn’t been an easy road, admitting to himself that he was in love with Adam Parrish. He wasn’t exactly sure when he had unlocked that secret, maybe it had been when Adam had stared at him, their gazes meeting even though a lake and a dream divided them, and told him that he knew about Ronan’s deal with St. Agnes. _Adam knew_ so Ronan let himself know, too.

Now here he was, shivering in Boyd’s while Adam did another oil change, his body hidden beneath an old station wagon. Ronan wanted to kick at Adam’s worn sneakers and demand that he _pay attention to me, loser_. But he didn’t. One of the first times he had bothered to visit Adam at work they had fought over school, over their vastly different life plans. Adam was his own man, he wanted things that Ronan did not value, but he wasn’t wrong.

Ronan turned a page of the paperback copy of _Hamlet_ and read the next line: “O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.” He was playing up the drama for Adam’s benefit, giving Hamlet an overly emo tone.

“Ronan, you’re supposed to be reading the play, not emoting to me about your issues,” Adam said, his voice muffled.

Ronan knelt in front of the car and grabbed the creeper and yanked it – and Adam – out from under the car. Adam yelled a few choice words that he had learned from Ronan. Ronan gave him his best shark smile and shoved the book in Adam’s face.

“Right there, smartass,” Ronan said. “Quote the Edgelord of Denmark.” Adam tried to swipe oil on Ronan’s face but he dodged it. “But, pray, let me read on for this next part dost sound like classic Adam Parrish.” Adam wrinkled his nose but stayed put. “Which dreams,” Ronan read, using his Guildenstern voice, “indeed are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.”

“Hmph,” Adam scoffed and slid back under the car. “My ambition and my dreams are very real, thank you very much.”

“Yes, yes. College. Success. The American Dream.” Ronan scanned the next few lines. He really wished that Adam had accepted his original offer to watch a version of _Hamlet_ at the Barns. They could have been sitting side by side on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a fire popping in the fireplace watching David Tennant or some other actor rant and cry about unavenged fathers. To be perfectly honest, most of the play did not sit well with Ronan, especially since he was well acquainted with his father’s murderer and he couldn’t – wouldn’t – touch Mr. Gray. Greenmantle, though…

“I’m going to help people,” Adam said. He was quiet, serious. “I used to want to rich like Aglionby boys are supposed to be. I wanted that lifestyle but now… I want to make a difference. Don’t you ever get that feeling, Ronan? That we have this one shot and we need to make it count?”

Ronan drummed his knuckles on the hood of the station wagon and gnawed at his bottom lip. “You’re like them,” he said, voice rough, “Gansey and Blue and Henry. I’m—” He didn’t say _broken_ but that’s what he thought. His father’s death, Kavinsky’s death, the enormous burden of what he was—it left him feeling so _apart_ , so _other_ , that he couldn’t see his way in the world outside of the comfort of the Barns. He didn’t have the same drives as the others. He wanted to dream, to create at the most fundamental level. Maybe that was selfish. He could imagine what Blue would say, probably chastise him for not dreaming up cures for all the world’s ills.

Adam was quiet beneath the car, waiting for Ronan to continue his thought, but Ronan didn’t feel up to it.

“We should probably save the analysis for your essay,” Ronan evaded. “I need to get you through Act 2 tonight.”

Adam sighed and kicked Ronan’s boot. “Fine. Read on, good sir, read on.”

Ronan smiled a little. He could do this. He fucking hated this play but for Adam he could read it. He cleared his throat and continued to read while Adam worked.

He drove Adam back to St. Agnes once he had finished at the shop. Ronan sat on Adam’s bed while Adam showered off the sweat and oil and gunk and dirt. He restrained himself from swiping Adam’s shirt that smelled so absolutely perfect. He had this under control. He did.

Adam emerged from the tiny bathroom wearing loose sweatpants, the towel draped over his bare shoulders to catch the water dripping from his still wet hair. Ronan looked away quickly, his heart thumping wildly. Adam rummaged through his drawer of clothes and pulled on an old Aglionby zip-up jacket he had won in an academic competition. He sat down at the head of the bed and pulled the blanket up over his thighs.

“Dude,” Ronan said, “dry your damn hair before you catch a cold.”

“Hmm?” Adam looked up from the notes he was busily scribbling in his English binder.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ronan muttered. He moved up next to Adam and took the towel and roughly scrubbed it over Adam’s head, making Adam yelp in protest. He kept at it until Adam’s hair was more fluffy than damp. “You’re welcome,” he grinned and hung up the towel on the back of the bathroom door.

Adam flipped him off but he was smiling and that was good enough for Ronan. It was good to be able to spend more time with Adam, even if it meant that he spent half the time reading from Adam’s textbooks. It was good to have Adam accept his help in this.

Ronan remembered that strained look on Adam’s face when their English professor had given them the syllabus for the fall semester. Senior year was no joke; everything was more advanced, more intense, more more _more_. Adam had barely been keeping up with school and work and Glendower. But now he had a ley line to tend, a magical forest whispering in his ear at all hours. Ronan had seen that look when no one else noticed and he decided, then and there, that he would help save Adam Parrish from himself.

Adam finished his notes and yawned so big that his eyes teared up. “How much do we have left?” he asked sleepily.

Ronan flipped through the book. “Only about five more pages. Polonius is about to make another appearance.”

“That guy,” Adam chuckled. He rubbed at his eyes and slumped against his pillow. It was nearly midnight. Ronan wondered how much sleep Adam would get. His eyes were almost perpetually bloodshot. Ronan grabbed his bottle of water and took a drink before starting again. He tried to keep to the voices he had established, tried not to get bogged down by the heaviness of the plot. But by the end Hamlet was hitting too close to home and his voice cracked. He stopped and coughed a few times. It was just a fucking play.

“Hey,” Adam murmured. He placed his hand on Ronan’s shoulder and squeezed. Ronan felt his mask crack a little more. “We’ll get Greenmantle,” Adam said. Implicit in the words was the bloody bargain they had made: _We’ll get revenge_.

“Yeah,” Ronan answered. He finished reading the act and sat in the quiet while Adam jotted down his thoughts. It was late. He didn’t want to leave.

“Adam?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Can I stay here tonight?” He held his breath and stared down at his feet, waiting.

“Sure,” Adam replied. “You know where the sleeping bag is.”

Ronan nodded and got ready for bed. By the time he settled into the sleeping bag Adam had fallen asleep, his back to the wall, the blanket pulled up to his chin. Adam at rest was the antithesis of Adam awake; here he was still and relaxed, his mind was taking a break from his ambitions, maybe he was dreaming. Ronan switched off the bedside lap and burrowed into the sleeping bag.

He was in love with Adam Parrish. The struggle was real.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
